I Will Always Be Right Here, My Darling
by Fesd5
Summary: Elizabeth Jane Robinson was bred in a lab from the DNA of a wonderful man - whom she has never known - and is now a slave. The Tardis is a time machine of the Time lords who thought her family was all lost. The Doctor was a man who thought he was the last Time lord. Read this story and experience love, excitement and pain that can only be experienced by a family, reunited.
1. Chapter 1

1\. A Normal Girl, One Heck of a Man

Elizabeth Jane Robinson. 'Daughter' of Jonathan and Lucy Robinson. Both dead. 'Sister' to Jonathan Junior Robinson - nicknamed Nate or Nathan. Seventeen years old. Short soft hair hanging at the length of her chin. Fringe blue and growing halfway down her cheek. Lightly tanned skin that wasn't white or brown. Living in Unit 28. Eating a bowl of gruel for breakfast and dinner, drinking soup at lunch.

Elizabeth Jane Robinson. Female human. Three sets of tunics and sandals and tea-towel head scarfs. Living in a cell in the female quarters. Sharing with nine other people in a small room. Living in a field that was actually a desert of dried dirt and dust. Living in a life of slavery, tied to the Gelth and their infested pawns.

"We are looking for Bradley Holmes!" a Gelth pawn shouted from the flat roof of a cell building. "He is to be given to the Head Gelth of Unit 28."

Elizabeth Jane Robinson. A slave among many, waiting to be given to the Head Gelth.

"No one has seen him?" the pawn said, smirking evilly. Suddenly, there was a scream and a little girl was thrown off the roof of another unit, squealing all the way as she fell. "Well, that was a shame." The pawn looked at the dead girl, splat on the floor, like he had lost a favourite dog that was of some use to him but he didn't particularly care. "Now, where was I...? Oh yes, doesn't _anyone_ know where Bradley Holmes is?"

Elizabeth Jane Robinson. She cared about the people she lived around. She was calm but smart and prepared. She had been bred in a lab to be a warrior but a protector. From the DNA of a wonderful man, she had been born. She had no idea who, but she was prepared to live with that.

"Here I am," Bradley sighed sadly as he stumbled forward. Although the life of a slave to the Head Gelth was better than being a miner, it meant you left behind your friends and hard work to be replaced by silence and pain.

Elizabeth Jane Robinson. Grown in an egg created from the DNA of an equally or more so wonderful woman. Forced into slavery despite her bloodline. Confused and lost, looking for a beacon of hope.

"Put him in the truck," the lead pawn hissed at the two standing posted at the bottom of the building. The pair strode forward and took a shoulder each before dragging Bradley over to an army truck parked on the dusty road leading to the barb-wire gates. "We will be back in one month to collect another."

For the first time ever, his eyes lingered on Liz and she felt a sting in her heart. If a pawn stared at you for longer than he did others, it meant you would be next. It meant the whip was slicing its way through the curtain towards you. It meant that you would be replacing blistered hands with scarred backs in a while.

As the truck trundled away, the people turned and headed back to work. That was all they had now: a routine. Get up after five hours of sleep only, have a bowl of gruel, work, have some soup, work, have a bowl of gruel, go back to your cell for five hours of rest. Muscles strained against their slim tunics whether they were men or women, adults or children. Even babies had muscle from clinging to their parents as the people worked.

Liz followed a group of muscle bound boys to a large hole in the ground near Cell 34. Wearing a tunic, it was hard to climb down the ladder but she managed and hoisted a sack of tools onto her back. The feeling of heavy tools digging sharply into her back didn't hurt that much after so long a time working.

Suddenly, an image flashed before her eyes. It was an image of when the Gelth army of infested people came marching into the county and began shooting people. Only, it wasn't what had happened when she was in London when she was only four. It looked more like...Africa. At least that was how she had imagined it. However, as the image bounced around her brain she began to feel sick and she cried out, falling to her knees as if they had snapped in two. Her heart felt like it was being torn from her chest as she screamed, throwing back her head in pain. Suddenly, her eyes began to glow a bright, blinding gold wispy sort of light that flew like flags from her eyes.

"Help me..." she whispered hoarsely and then a spasm shook her body agonizingly. "_HELP ME_!"

* * *

The TARDIS whirled through space effortlessly, relaxed like it was being carried by waves on a beach. The tube glowed red, purple, dark blue and green hues and looked like wisps of non-smelling smoke weaving together with twisted rings every so often and a light that they never seemed to reach. The colours were smudged together slightly like someone had put their finger on it and simply twitched slightly, rubbing the shades together.

Suddenly, the TARDIS shook sharply, thrown near the tube sides and quivering in surprise. She swiftly righted herself but the action that had happened only moments before shocked her. It had felt...personal. Like back when they would fly near a TARDIS and there would be a pull, telling them that their sister was nearby. Only, this was more powerful. Like distress mixed with love.

And the pull was so powerful that her curiosity got the better of her as she swerved, leaping out of the tube.

Inside, the Doctor was thrown back, yelling in shock as he tried to get a good grip on the railing. Clara yelped in fear as she was flung over the railing running along the outside of the grating, landing on the area below where the engines were.

"Doctor!" Clara yelled. "What's going on?"

"We're stopping somewhere!" the Doctor shouted back.

"What!"

It wasn't a question, just a gasp of surprise, but the Doctor answered anyway. "The TARDIS is leaving the path and going somewhere else!"

"But I thought we were going to twenty million and eighty two!" Clara protested.

"Yeah well, we're not," the Doctor grunted, swinging from one rail to the door in one movement and slamming his head on the lock. "Ow!"

"Doctor!" Clara screamed as sparks were thrown up from the control panel, the bolts blowing and smashing whilst the rails fell from the grating.

Groaning, the Doctor grabbed onto one of the remaining intact railings and flung himself to the control panel, fumbling around before pulling down the lever, looking over his shoulder to smirk at Clara.

"Germonimo."

The TARDIS made a forwards flip, her doors flinging open for some reason as she screeched in pain. She was feeling the pain of the distress signal, the pain of her family. Her heart longed to feel the presence of another TARDIS as she shot across the stars, unfamiliar but at the same time recognizable.

"We're on..._Earth_!" the Doctor cried as he stared from the control panel at the stars. "Only...they're different."

"What's wrong with the TARDIS!" Clara demanded loudly of the Doctor as she was thrown against the roof of the TARDIS and then rolled round onto the floor again. "And what's up with the_ gravity_!"

"I don't know, do I?" the Doctor snapped. "But we _are_ landing!"

The TARDIS panted. It was unlike other times when she had wheezed and groaned because the Doctor landed her incorrectly, but rather like straining against the pull of a powerful rope dragging her into a lake. She let out a piercing scream that sounded like incredibly loud sirens as she doubled over before landing upside down. Inside, the two travelers lay on the curved ceiling, groaning as they shifted around, hurting in areas that would soon blossom bruises.

Tiredly, the Doctor pushed himself to his feet. He ran his hand through his dark brown hair, forcing the wild strings back into place before searching his pockets. After a while, his lazy mood became desperate as he patted the pockets of his yellow-brown blazer, searching fearfully.

"The sonic screwdriver," he said to Clara as if she had asked. "It's gone!"

Clara rolled her eyes and pointed at one of his trouser pockets. "Did you check in _there_?"

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth, rolling his eyes as he mouthed what she said angrily before thrusting his hands into them, ruffling around like his pockets never ended.

_Maybe they don't_, Clara thought as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you looking for this?"

The voice was unfamiliar and the pair looked up to see, standing on the top of the TARDIS doorway, was a young girl, cringing in agony but holding the sonic in her hand. She had short dark brown hair not much unlike the Doctor's with a fringe which was dyed blue and reached halfway down her cheek. Her skin was pale, her eyes were piercing and a shade that was either bright blue or dull green. She wore a white tunic that swayed around her knees and strained against uncommon muscles. Weary lines stained her face and her nails were chipped whilst her hands were red with blisters. On her feet were a pair of worn old sandals and her movements were cautious as if the floor would cave in beneath her.

"Now, don't do anything," the Doctor held up a warning finger but her eyes - _I'll call them blue for now_, thought the Doctor - held no evidence that she planned to do anything with it. In fact, they glittered with an intelligence that seemed to prove that she _knew_ what to do with it.

"Why would I do anything?" she cocked her head to the side in confusion only to snap it back up when the TARDIS whispered something. It sounded only like old machinery groaning after it exploded like she had but to the girl it was different. In a single moment, the stranger had shifted from cautious and stiff to relaxed and calm. "Why would I harm something of the same breed as my mother?"

"Your _mother_?" the Doctor frowned.

But the cloud that had passed over the girl's eyes had vanished and now she blinked in confusion. "I don't have a mother."

The Doctor shook his head. Clara cleared her throat.

"Hate to break the party but am I the only one who hasn't forgotten that we are sitting on the _roof_?" Clara said, staring at the stranger with a hint of jealousy.

"Technically, we are not _sitting_ on the roof," the girl corrected. "And I think you'll find it is only the ceiling, as the TARDIS has many other rooms."

"How do you know what she's called?" the Doctor demanded, almost shivering. There was something fishy about this. Like fish fingers and custard: weird but delicious.

"I..." the girl was confident one moment and then uncertain the next. "I don't know. I just...know."

Squinting at her, the Doctor almost felt like his eyes would drop back into his brain from all the frowning and he'd end up with strange lines on his forehead. For a moment, he just gawked at her, and then he clapped his hands and was back to waving them around when he spoke.

"Do you mind if I ask you what year this is?" the Doctor asked, smothering his anxiety with confidence and calmness that was artificial. The girl stared at him like he had said something different and she didn't believe him but she answered anyway.

"Twenty fifteen," she said coolly. "London, England. Residents: Humans and Gelth pawns. Location: Unit 28, Mine shaft 63."

"_Mine shaft_," the Doctor stared in shock. "_Gelth pawns_."

"_Twenty fifteen_!" Clara cried.

"Yes," the girl blinked at them. "When were you last here, Doctor?"

"Twenty fourteen," Clara inserted. She was still confused. Only, what? One year ago? There had been greenery and lampposts and humans. How could all this happened in _one year_ when they had been there for what sounded like ages?

"And how did you know my name?" added the Doctor. Once again, the girl blinked dumbly but this time she didn't bother telling him she didn't know because he already understood. "What's your name?"

"I am Elizabeth," she told him. "But people call me Liz. And you had better put on some tunics and sandals before the pawns come and make you one of them."

"What do you mean _pawns_?" Clara demanded. The Doctor smirked at her show of 'understanding'. He knew she knew nothing of the Gelth and their evil plans when he was venturing with Rose but she still tried to show her intelligence.

"When the Gelth came, all life died," Liz explained, eyes twinkling with excitement, the same excitement the Doctor felt when replaying a story no one knew. However, her sparkle was bigger as she had obviously not met anyone who didn't know of it. "I was only four - they've been here for thirteen years. They infested all the prime ministers and kings and queens and...presiants?"

"Presidents," the Doctor offered.

"That's it," Liz beamed. "They took over every country and began getting everyone together in tight places and chose their pawns. With them, they broke the humans and made us into slaves. We now work in mine shafts until every month on the first day three pawns come to each unit and collect a human who is to be taken to the Head Gelth of the unit."

"Do you have any siblings? Parents?" the Doctor inquired.

"Adopted," Liz shrugged. "Never any record of my parents but my adoptive brother is called Nate. He's two years older than me. My adoptive parents were called Lucy and Jonathan. Nate was named after his dad. I was...grown in a lab."

The look of shame that crossed her face made the Doctor's heart leap. She had been born and raised in a lab but when she spoke of it she looked like she had done something naughty. For a moment, he stared, and then his jaw popped open as she lifted her head and smiled brightly.

"Anyway, about flipping this place," she gestured to the long vein-like pipes that kept the ceiling from caving in. The two companions caught hold of one each and waited patiently as the stranger closed her eyes. Wisps of gold flew from her eyes like flags as Liz was suspended in the air, floating there as the TARDIS was drawn from the earth and flipped over. As she turned, the Doctor and Clara cried out, their heads spinning as they felt their shoulders twist. But a moment later it felt like two giant hands had taken them, one each, and lowered them onto the ground.

"There we go," Liz smiled cheerfully. She scurried over to the control panel and the Doctor knew he couldn't stop her from staring at everything although he wanted to. A human with magic powers could be very dangerous. And yet, as he watched, she touched each broken bulb or smashed screen and, like skin knitting together, the machinery fixed until everything looked like new.

"Mind doing a paint job whilst you're at it?" the Doctor asked jokingly.

He was surprised when she flung back her head and the golden light flowed from her mouth, enveloping the TARDIS and fixing every chip, every smudge, every everything until the machine looked brand new. A second later, the girl blinked as if to clear her head and stared at them.

"What?" she frowned at their gawping faces.

"How did you do that?" the Doctor asked, spinning around and smiling at the work like he had gotten a new toy.

"Do what?" Liz frowned.

A twisted look took over his face as the Doctor turned to her, shock clear on his features. "You don't remember," he breathed.

"Remember what?" Liz squinted at him. "Are you joking?"

"Okay, _this _is weird," Clara whispered as she stepped up to the Doctor's side.

The pair of them just stared at Liz like she had just blow up the earth. And for all Liz knew, she might have. Her memory was blank, like two minutes had been ripped from her existence and there was nothing she could do about it.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Liz waved her hands at them, ushering them off. "Go on! Tunics and sandals! Get to it!"

The two travelers sighed and strode off like kids sent to tidy their rooms. And together, the pair of them prepared to see the new earth they had barely even left.

* * *

His name - or rather, the name he had adopted - was Captain Jack Harkness. He had once been a Time Agent. Now a conman and part time hero. He had once cared for a girl named Rose, now he was a little confused to be honest.

He tapped the codes on his watch hopefully. He had heard of a slave time on earth and he knew that the Doctor would be there. He wanted to see the Doctor again, to say something to him. Maybe the man had seen something extraordinary or had met some other new companion.

"A hot companion, _I_ hope," Cap'n Jack smirked.

Finally, he pressed the enter button which should have been no bigger than two pinheads placed together and fused into one before being pressed as a button on the watch. He had to admit, the watch was rather big but no one would suspect a watch being a time traveling device. And with a mind that calculated things fairly quickly, he could tap in a few numbers and-

"Who are you?" a metallic voice demanded. "Name yourself."

"Oh no," Captain Jack sighed, smirking. "Great. Daleks."

"Shut up!" a more human voice snapped. Jack spun around to see a sneering man with short, spiky red hair and sharp green eyes. He looked over Jack suspiciously before his mouth broke into a wide, arrogant smile. "_Finally_! A good strong male slave!"

"Excuse me?" Jack chuckled, expecting it to be a joke. "I'm not a slave."

"Oh, are you a Gelth possession?" the man nodded but he didn't look quite as thrilled.

"What?" Jack groaned, putting a hand to his head. "I am just a man, can't you understand that?"

A smirk began to creep onto the strange man's features as he strode forward, grabbing hold of Jack's upper arms. He shook Jack slightly as if to clear the boy's thoughts before leaning in so that their noses were centimeters apart.

"Well, you must have come far, sir. I am Milo McKenzie. Well, the _human_ was called that," the man chuckled darkly. "And you must be very different to have come when you know nothing of the human slavery," the man said, encircling Jack like he was sizing up his prey. "Do you work magic?"

"Uh..." Jack hesitated. _Should I say yes just to say yes or should I..._

"Of course, if you own magic I will have a house set up for you in any unit you wish and some slaves of your own..." the man glanced at Jack in a sneaky knowing look.

"Yes I do!" Jack cried without hesitation and then he waved a finger in the man's face. "But no Gelths in me!"

"No, no of course not," the man frowned. "If you house magic how can we enter?"

"Oh yeah..." Jack smiled guiltily.

* * *

"Wow, this is a nice place," the Doctor looked around as they trudged along the mine shaft.

"Yeah, if you don't mind cold and creepy," Clara muttered as she rubbed her arms, staring at the ancient flaming torches bolted to the walls.

"Oops!" Liz called back. Clara was surprised by how muscular the girl was but then again, being forced into slavery in the mines, what would you expect? "Watch out, there's a few crushed bones right here. Follow the right wall, okay?"

"_Bones_!" Clara cried. "Like...chicken bones?"

"What?" Liz snorted. "What decade do you live in? _Human_ bones."

Clara felt her jaw fall open painfully as she felt the Doctor enclose her hand with his carefully, gently pulling her over to the right until he could feel the wall. Each wall was several feet apart and the walls were hard to follow because when a dip went too far in you could mistake it for the wall dropping out rather than just an erosion. Then they would knock their sides and or heads as they pressed inwards because of their mistakes.

"Did you really think _everyone_ adapted quickly?" Liz inquired as she twisted round a sharp corner on the right. Unlike the others, her sight was better and it was almost like she had a greenish grey light glowing from the back of her eyes to help her see. The torches suddenly flared brighter and more numerously as they advanced upon the brain chiseling sounds of pickaxes striking stone, metal and iron striking rock, the scent of cinders and ashes blasting at them. "I was lucky I was only four. At that age you just work in the gym, some people got worked to death."

In the new light of the increasing number of torches, Clara saw the Doctor wincing as if he had just been punched. She couldn't help but blink and nod knowingly at him. The smell of burnt flesh and decaying meat struck them like the blow from a bomb, making the pair take a deep breath of shock.

"Doctor, can we go?" Clara mumbled, pulling her coat over her nose.

"Err...I _guess_... I mean, we could come back in two minutes. I think we'll go to the boss or whatever and-" the Doctor began.

"What!" Liz cried. "You can't do that to her!"

"Huh?" Clara frowned. "I _wanna_ get out."

"No, mother of mine!" Liz screeched. "She's exhausted."

"I thought you didn't have a mother!" Clara snapped. Her fuse was burning out just now and she had to admit most of it was because of the effect Elizabeth Robinson had over the Doctor - the man she _fancied_ incredibly.

"I don't," Liz replied patiently.

"Then _what_ did you _mean_?" Clara snarled. If she'd been a dog or a cat her fur would be bristling.

Liz froze, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. "I...don't know."

"Well, this isn't very interesting," the Doctor sighed.

* * *

The truck rolled to a stop and Jack stuck his head out through the window, frowning at the dusty landscape. Ahead there were many, many wide dug holes with lids pushed back and numbers painted on them. Some long cement buildings were sprinkled along the landscape with other numbers painted on the metal, reinforced doors. It looked despicably disgusting but Jack had seen much worse much more often.

Suddenly, the truck jerked forward once more as the barb-wire gates swung open slowly allowing access. The driver wove in and out between the holes, the vehicle jerking every time it hit a pothole or a stray stone. As they zoomed forward, Jack scanned the area, taking note of the holes and strange buildings, logging questions in his mind for later. His rubbed his forehead, grimacing at the sight of grubby men and women in tunics, hair cropped short and muscles pressing against their clothes. Meanwhile, he and the others - who were mostly Gelth 'possessions' and, apparently, Daleks - looked like weaklings next to the workers.

However, despite the idea that the land led on forever, not long later they exited through a second barb-wire fence and headed towards a large patch of fresh green grass and a large, magnificent mansion. It was far from anywhere else, about five miles from the unit they'd just passed through, and it almost looked homely except for the fact that the scenery behind it was just slopes and hills of dust and red dirt and, about ten miles on, a small encampment not unlike the one before.

"What was that prison camp called back there?" Jack inquired of the driver as he leaned back in, pressing a hand over his mouth as the sand kicked up from the front wheels attacked his lungs and eyes.

"Unit 28, sir," the driver answered.

"What do you mean 'sir'," Jack requested as he coughed, hurriedly rolling up the window.

"You are to be head of Unit 28, sir, and therefore your slaves must address you as sir, sir."

"I'm to be head of that place?" Jack spat, wincing at the idea of owning such a horrid place.

"It is the nicest unit there is, sir," the driver answered as calmly as he could although the impatience was starting to set in. "Except for the head, head man, sir. He's the one who confers with the Evil Ones, sir."

"The _what_?" Jack snorted although he was pretty sure who the 'Evil Ones' were.

"No one knows what they are, sir, only that they are evil, sir."

"Oh, okay," Jack forced his questions back only to release one after all. "How long until we reach the estate?"

"About ten minutes, sir."

"Okay, fine," Jack swooped his hands back behind his head and leaned into the chair, shutting his eyes and locking out the troubles of a 'Head'.

It didn't take long after all and a few minutes later the driver called back that they were there. Jack's eyes snapped open to the sound of crunching stones beneath the wheels and leaned out to see that, out of nowhere, a fine white and grey stone covered road was underneath them. It led up to a turnabout with a lush circular patch of green grass in the middle, a large fountain positioned on it. Around the road was green lawn and a narrow brick path led up to the black door of the building. Standing along the path on either sides were the staff - slaves as everyone called them. The door was set into a white brick house with tall arched windows and potted plants whilst the roof was made up of very dark grey slate.

A male slave hurried forward and opened the door for Jack. The captain had learnt that he had to let others do his work although it was hard to battle the instinct not to do everything himself. He stepped out and stared at the people. They were all muscle-bound like the slaves at the unit only they wore smart clothes. The females were dressed in slim-cloth dark blue dresses and aprons tied around their waists. The sleeves reached down to their wrists but were crinkled, giving away months or years of being folded up. Their hair was done up and then a cloth was tied over it to keep off the grease. Meanwhile, the men all had short hair and wore black suits with black shoes nicely polished and white bow-ties. However, the younger boys wore tattered light brown blazers and trousers, their hair was more ruffled although showing traces of hours of combing and they kept their heads down. Unlike them, the older people looked up at the blue sky.

"Hello, I am Captain Jack Harkness, bearer of magic," Jack bowed to them and when he straightened up he could see glints of horror entering there eyes. A smirk crossed his face, an idea popping into his head. "Ah, so people _do_ look at me."

"Sir-" one of the maids began.

"Be silent whilst in the presence of your master!" the driver hissed threateningly. Jack guessed being a driver was a higher status than maid or a manservant, also known as slaves.

Jack let the sound of the driver's voice slide and began to stride between them, giving each of them critical glances, trying to look stern, before stepping up in front of the door and turning on the spot, a scowl on his face although his eyes were glittering.

"Are you all loyal to me?" he demanded, his voice harsh.

"Yes sir," the slaves answered strongly.

Determined, Jack stepped up to a maid and stared into her eyes. "Are you loyal to me, young maid?"

She looked into his eyes fearfully, audibly swallowed and nodded. "Yes sir, I am loyal to you, sir."

Eyes glinting, he spun on the spot and stared into a manservant's eyes. "Are _you_ loyal to me boy?"

The manservant quivered under his new master's gaze but answered without a hint of lying. "Yes sir, I am also loyal to you, sir."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jack strode along and turned to a second maid, his penetrating gaze making her visibly tremble. He repeated the question and received the same answer although a few words were changed. Never the less, she had submitted and he shifted along before kneeling at eye level in front of one of the boys. His hands were stained black, hinting at shoe polish and coal from fires.

"Are you loyal to me, little man?" Jack whispered, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes sir," the boy nodded, puffing out his chest in pride. "I'll follow ya to the end of the world, sir."

"Great!" Jack leaped up, a cheerful look shooting onto his face as he headed for the first man in line, shaking his hand and smiling, inquiring after his name: James Baker. "Nice to meet you James _Baker_. Are you a cook by any chance?"

"I...know a little bit, sir," the man smiled nervously.

"Great!" Jack grinned. He moved on, shaking everyone's hand and learning their names before he turned to the door. "Now, let's go inside."

He strode forward, flinging open the door to his new and improved life. A chandelier hung from the white roof, the walls were decorated with extravagant wallpaper. A mirror hung to the right of the door and below it was a shelf with a plateful of letters. The floor was coated with a velvet red carpet and at the end of the corridor was a fancy spiraling staircase. The smell of wood polish and cleaner drifted up his nose, choking him slightly but not harsh enough to make him unable to breathe. Two old women in aprons and caps were standing at either side of the stairs, one with a file and one with a tray, a semi-sphere lid over it to keep the heat in.

"Hello sir," they both bowed with practice. Their eyes were glittering with both happiness and uncertainty.

"Hello everybody!" Jack yelled, throwing out his arms. "I am _Captain _Jack!"

* * *

**I might not end up writing the end but...please bare with me and be patient. Hope you liked my first chapter, it's the longest I've ever made! Anyway, sorry that my other stories are so short and please comment; read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

2\. So Much for Two Minutes

"Come on," Elizabeth called to the Doctor and Clara who had paused to stare through one of the many empty windows. The room - or rather, cavern - had a pulley system over a conveyor belt that were both powered by people. Through a small square hole off to the side, piles of rock and dirt came gliding through on the conveyor belt and were crushed as the sixteen tonne weight was lowered via the pulley system. A young boy of approximately sixteen was jogging on a running machine which was rigged up to the conveyor belt, making it move, whilst two young women pulled toughly on the rope with the tonne weight whenever a bundle of rocks came along.

"Okay," Clara said absentmindedly as she stared at the girls, obviously imagining having muscles like that and working everyday.

"Yes, I know, it's cruel. Now let's _move_!" Liz snapped, grabbing the Doctor at the back of his neck and literally dragging him along.

"Hey!" Clara yelled.

"Be quiet," Liz hissed back, her eyes darting around. "We've wasted enough time. If I don't turn up before twelve then I don't get any lunch!"

The Doctor frowned as he batted her arm away and just walked at her side, Clara jogging along behind them. He didn't have the strength to wrestle from Liz's grip which was obvious so most likely Liz had simply let him knock her hand off to be fair. They moved on for what felt like six miles to the visitors but was the very much more likely one mile walk for Liz before they stopped. There were lots of rooms like the first but some were breaking up the rocks, some were melting and then reconstructing the rocks, some where lifting the rocks and even a few were just labeling the type of rock and writing it down. At none of these did Liz stop and if the other two did they had to hurry to get back to her as she didn't wait.

Finally, she planted her feet into the ground by a large metal door with bolts and a large code pad to the side. She stepped over to it, tapped in the code, pressed her finger print down, stuck out her tongue at the camera and finally said "Elizabeth Robinson and two guests."

The Doctor stepped up to smile in the camera but Liz shoved him away without even glancing towards him. A green "Access Allowed" printed on the digital pad above the door before Liz grabbed the large handle on the door and shoved it open. As she moved it, the Doctor and Clara gawked at the mere thickness of the door at almost six inches. No wonder the people had to be strong if they had pry open such an enormous door.

However, what was inside was even _more_ surprising. Towering, rough walls of red compressed dirt and many jutting out paths ringing round it, reaching a height of five miles but with most of it lower down where darkness clung to even the most open places. Every so often there would be a gap in the path with a rope ladder leading down either all four miles - for the trio - or just go down from one to four other floors.

"We're going down to the bottom," Liz declared, pulling open a smaller door stuck in the compressed dirt with ease and pulling out three pickaxes and a sack. "Here, take a pickax."

The Doctor and Clara held out a hand to Liz who blinked in confusion, her expression swiftly reflected on their faces before she laughed.

"Oh, no these are for me," she explained as she strapped on a belt, slotting in the axes and then tying the sack around her left forearm. "You're meant to take two or three in case one breaks or someone else needs one."

"Isn't it _heavy_?" Clara gawked.

"Oh..." Liz frowned. "I suppose. But after thirteen years of it and lots of muscle it isn't much to me. I suppose you could say that a chicken bone like you would think it weighed about...the heaviness of heaving three tonnes? To us it's like carrying twenty grams."

"That's _impossible_!" Clara cried. The Doctor nodded but Liz just barked a laugh.

"Not if you've been carrying this weight and _more_ for thirteen years," Liz laughed.

The Doctor sighed in confusion but, unlike Clara, decided not to push the point. He nudged Clara but it was already too late; the twenty year old was fuming.

"No, it's not _possible_!" Clara snarled. "How can three tonnes become twenty grams in _only_ thirteen years."

"Hey, why don't you try it and _then_ you can grump at me for the rest of eternity!" Liz grunted, her fuse starting to blow. The two were born enemies it would appear and the Doctor was just standing at the side, flapping his hands uselessly.

"Ladies..." he began.

"Maybe I will!" Clara roared. Their floor and the floor above had paused to stare down at them in amusement.

"Come on, Clara..." the Doctor tried once more.

"Yeah, do you have that patience or do you need to have the TARDIS go forwards in time and see what happened?" Liz barked in Clara's face. They were like two lions fighting over a mate. Or two lionesses fighting over a scrap of meat. Maybe even two buffalo battling over a patch of grass. The Doctor started counting off all the animals and things they could be.

"Try me," Clara hissed.

But a second later, a strange screeching noise made all but one double over in pain. Liz stood strongly over all, eyes alert and lips quirking before her eyes fluttered closed in defeat and she whimpered.

"I am sorry, mother. I should not fight with Clara Oswald and I apologize," Liz whispered. The Doctor looked up in surprise, wondering what the noise was as it died away, gradually changing into a soft humming and then silencing. Then she shook her head, clearing it as everyone stumbled to their feet and tried to stare at her. Without saying a word, Liz saluted them and they all saluted back before returning to their work. "You have caused me enough trouble. Now I must go and mine. Close the door once you have your tools."

She strode off, ignoring the Doctor's pleas to stay, and descended down the ladder, her shoulders rolling easily as she stepped from rung to rung. Her knees popped regularly but that happened often when she didn't move quickly enough and so she picked up the pace, her arms stretching over her head as she swung down swiftly.

"There. Phew. Now, off to work," Liz sighed as she headed over to the a shaft digging through the wall with an empty mine cart. Smiling quietly, she strode over and dumped her tools inside before shoving it down the track. "Here we go." The torches flickered dully, casting an eerie yellow glow, as she vanished into the darkness of the shaft.

* * *

It must have been at least five months since Jack had turned up on the doorstep of Unit 28 Head House and been treated like a king. Now he was lying in a bubble filled bath, steam rising in wisps over the silky hot water. Every few minutes a maid would enter, eyes cast down and avoiding looking at his nude body, scoop out a bowl full of water and pour in nice hot water fresh from the kettle. Jack would wink at them, their faces would pink and they would scurry out to dump the bowl of water.

He had a platter lying on the redwood table by the bath and lying on it were finger sandwiches. Every so often he would select one and pop it in his mouth, savoring the taste deliciously. A new slave, a man, had turned up that morning called Bradley Holmes. Jack had barked in laughter at the name 'Holmes' when he remembered the great investigator Sherlock Holmes.

"You've been Sher-locked," he mumbled thoughtfully, a sandwich in his mouth.

Over the months, Jack had learnt the certain stations. 'Slave' was where you were first and the most lowly thought of. Slaves were taken straight from the mine and could be little children, old adults or middle-aged people, it didn't matter. Child, adult, senior. Either one could be a slave and they did pretty much anything that wasn't selected exactly.

Next up were the maids, menservants and footmen. They were basically just slaves with 'majors'. The maids spent most of their time doing house cleaning, menservants would run on errands and show guests to the lord, and footmen were mostly just little kids who opened doors and were assigned, in most cases, to do as the maids and menservants said. However, they were still above the slaves as they could boss them around, telling them to fetch them a sandwich or scrub the hall and et cetera. They were there to boss around the slaves particularly when the lord was busy.

Third in the rankings in reverse order were the cooks, drivers and grooms. The cooks were usually the seniors who were previously maids or menservants when one of the cooks died or was released. They spent all their hours of the week in the kitchen, even when sleeping. In the corner of the kitchen, shielded by a curtain, was a long aisle with beds running along for the cooks and their staff - the mini-chefs who were also counted as third. The drivers drove slaves from the unit to the house and even sometimes drove the lord to the camp when he wished it. They usually had it easy, lounging in the staff lounge, drinking beer or fruit juice and whatever they had in the six mini-fridges built into the walls. However, they always had to be in nice grey trousers, polished black boots, a white shirt with a black blazer and a grey cap so that if the lord wanted to go out, they were ready. After that, there were the grooms who did almost nothing. They cared for the two horses in the large stable yard out back over looking carefully cared for rolling fields of grass, untouched mostly. There were - at that time - probably about six grooms, all keeping every stable in the yard for twenty carefully cared for and grooming the only two horses available. In fact, they were the only ones who could ride the horses other than the lord as they had to keep the horses fit.

And second were the private servants. They had their own section in the rankings. They were assigned to a certain person when guests visited and Jack had two working as his own personal servants. They answered only to Jack, not even those above them unless they were left in charge when the lord was away.

Finally, at the top of the board, were the advisers and the secretaries. The advisers usually also lounged in the staff lounge, were quite often only twenty or thirty years old and only really stepped in when the lord had a problem. Otherwise, they just ordered those below them about except for the present private servants. If these servants weren't assigned, they had to listen to him and the secretaries. Meanwhile, the secretaries were always in their offices, sat behind a smooth wooden table and sitting in a comfy office chair. They were the ones who sought out good slaves and showed them to the lord who decided on one to be fetched on the first of the month.

Knowing the rankings helped when he needed to call on someone.

"Sir!" Ginger James threw opened the door and sprinted in. She was one of his private servants and he had told her that she may enter without announcing herself whenever unless there were guests.

"Yes Ginger?" Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Pass me the towel, will you?"

"Yes sir," Ginger nodded and grabbed the soft cream towel, holding it out to him. She kept her eyes centered on his face as he stood up, wrapping the towel around his waist but leaving his smooth, muscular chest bare. To be honest, Jack was surprised that in twenty fifteen - the year not long after where Rose came from - apparently didn't have taps for baths. Ginger explained it was because they didn't want the bath to go cold and it was easier to refill and empty it without plugs and taps. Plus, it caused discomfort.

"What is it, Ginger?" Jack yawned as he picked up a smaller towel and rubbed his soft brown locks gruffly, drying it as well as possible.

"Willow died!" Ginger gasped. Glancing up, Jack saw the tears budding in her eyes and felt his heart lurch to her. He didn't _love_ her in the way he might love someone as his wife or husband but he cared about her as his sister. Dropping the small towel, he encased her in his arms as she pressed her cheek to his chest and wept. She was one of few who didn't blush at contact with his nudity and that made it easier not to fall head-over-heels in love with her.

"You mean the cook?" Jack purred softly, stroking her hair. He felt the small nod as his hand bobbed up and down with her and her cheek brushed over his chest sending pleasant trembles throughout his body. He bit his lip and lightly kissed Ginger on the forehead like one might to do their sibling. She was a servant but she still felt like kin to him.

"S-she was cooking and then s-she had h-heart attack," Ginger gasped between sobs.

Gently, Jack hoisted her up so that she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his hair before carrying her out of the bathroom and through to his rooms. Even though the house was his own, he had all his rooms and certain quarters branching off the entrance area to his room.

Through the wooden door he came to a small lounge with a fireplace next to the door, burning cozily, and a red sofa as well as an identically coloured armchair sitting near the heat. A short coffee table with a top of granite and a frame of wood painted gold sat within reach of the two and on the white walls hung paintings with gold painted frames. A door at the back of the room which was shut led through to his bedroom. The two doors to the right led to a bathroom and an office also serving as a library. The single door to the left led through to a single room for any family or if he was ill and a maid had to stay. The maids were trained basic healing techniques so as to help anyone who was unwell.

Carefully, Jack lowered Ginger onto the sofa and unfolded the blanket which lay over one of the arms, settling it over the servant as she cried desperately, her tears soaking the material.

"S-sorry sir," Ginger murmured sadly. "I-it's just that m-me 'n' Willow were really close and s-she was like a gr-gran to m..."

"No worries," Jack smiled gently. "Take all the time you need, Ginger. And remember, I'm always here if you need me."

He turned and headed for the door but as he did, an idea struck him. Horses!

* * *

Liz stumbled up to the ladder, a long line trailing behind her and many people still clambering up. With all the weariness of someone who had run a marathon, Liz dragged herself up the ladder and out into the fresh air. At least, if you could call air with dirt particles in it _fresh_. People were heading for their units and ready to call it a night as always, probably hoping to be able to sleep tonight with their aching muscles. Even for someone who had been working like this since they were four, Liz found the hours overwhelming. Sometimes she couldn't even pick up an ax when she finished and she was glad she hadn't needed to drag those pickaxes back from the mine. The only problem was that she had left a sack of tools by the ladder and she needed to return them. They were tied to her ankle and the metal tools clanked in protest as they knocked together.

"Lizzy, come on!" a tired voice yelled from the door of Cell 30. "We can't sleep until you get here!"

"I'm coming Mandy," Liz yawned, trying to talk as loudly as possible, her eyes trying to glue themselves shut as she put the sack of tools inside the wooden box by the hole and dragged her feet towards the building. The Doctor and Clara were standing in the middle of the wave of people, looking around uncertainly and sighing in exhaustion. "I just need to..."

If someone hadn't knocked into her, Liz might have fallen asleep on the spot, but it turned out that that did the trick and she lazily jogged over to the pair, grabbing Clara's wrist and pulling her through the crowd, elbowing past people. The Doctor cried out as someone smashed into him but he managed to escape the flow and catch up as the two girls disappeared through the doorway Mandy was standing in.

Mandy had an almost-shaved head with small spikes of black poking up in tufts from her head. You might have mistaken her for a boy if you didn't see those alluring brown eyes and the smooth pink-grey lips that snatched the prize for 'boldest feature' on her bronze face. She eyed the Doctor suspiciously but let him pass before slamming the door closed.

Liz went up to one of the doors out of the two and knocked loudly. Deep, masculine voices groaned and protested as the door slid open from inside. Tommy stood leaning in the doorway, his eyes sagging. He was about a year older than Liz and one of Nate's friends and, according to her brother, he fancied her. The minute he saw her, his eyes brightened and he smiled. _Yep, he fancies me_, she thought.

"Hi Tommy," Liz smiled softly. "I was wondering, could you and Nate take this guy in for the night?" She grabbed the Doctor's arm and pulled him into view. "Just for tonight, don't worry. Then they'll be _long gone_."

Tommy frowned at the Doctor and a thought rushed through Liz's mind which caused her to stifle a giggle. _He thinks I like the Doctor! How crazy!_

He nudged Liz who nodded at him knowingly and wrapped her hand around the Doctor's. He glanced down at her but didn't do anything as he smiled at them.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor. Sorry about this intrusion, just visiting. My ship has a mind of her own."

"Ships," Tommy rolled his eyes. "The Head Head Gelth has like sixty flying across the sky _all the time_ keeping an eye on us! It's not like we're going to blow the place up!"

"He means we would," Nate inserted as he got up from his bunk and stepped into the doorway, "_if_ we had any bombs or grenades, you know?"

"I understand," the Doctor nodded and then he became grave. "But I can't help you there. I'm not one for renaissances."

"Of course you're not," Tommy snarled. "I don't know what Liz sees in you."

The Doctor turned to Liz in surprise. "You're a warrior?"

Liz shrugged. "Warrior and protector. I was bred for it."

Clara shook her head and sighed. "Some things are just too good to be true..."

"Hey!" Liz growled.

"What?" Clara cried.

Liz's eyes narrowed at her. Her heart was thudding when she suddenly felt a burst of energy and relaxed. "The TARDIS can take you to the Head now. She's got her energy back. You can leave in the morning."

The Doctor nodded and disappeared into the boy's room. Clara was led into the girl's room where she curled up on the floor which, surprisingly, was actually quite comfortable even though it was made from stone.

* * *

The Doctor woke up when all the others were gone and stretched out, yawning and grunting as his bones slotted into place, clicking. He glanced at his watch and gawked at the time. It was _twelve o'clock_!

"I know," Clara sighed. He sat up suddenly and saw that his companion was sitting on one of the beds, her eyes still almost glued together. "The others only slept for five hours or something."

"Poor them," the Doctor mumbled. "Shall we go say how we feel to the Head?"

Clara nodded and then passed him a small scrap of paper with the words 'Don't be gone for long' written with what looked like red dirt. Smiling brightly, the Doctor pushed himself stiffly to his feet, brushing the crinkles from his clothes like it were dust. Then he slipped his arm through Clara's and dragged her up from the bed, guiding her through the door, down the corridor and towards the hole down which stood the TARDIS. He was almost skipping with joy as he scrambled down the ladder, fishing the key out his pocket once he reached the bottom and inserting it into the lock. Clara took a while to get down but the minute they were in she was sprinting around, hurrying to find some clothes other than the ghastly tunic and sandals she was wearing. The Doctor found his gloves thrown over one of the railings and pulled on some trousers, a shirt, black shoes and his blazer. Suddenly, he froze from folding the tunic.

"Where's my bow-tie?" he called.

"Huh?" Clara grunted loudly as the sound of a box being shoved across the floor reverberated off the walls.

"Ey! Be careful!" the Doctor yelled. He leaped over the railing and raced round to where Clara had shoved the box, carefully lifting it like it were the crown jewels.

"What is that?" Clara sighed, staring at the box. She was waiting for it to open, to be some sort of gold wire necklace with diamonds trickling off it of the same pale blue shade they were drawn in cartoons. Or perhaps a small silver tiara with a small emerald set into the crust, polished with love. She expected there to be some sort of complicated lock which only the Doctor could open with the TARDIS key or his sonic or some other sort of thing. Instead, he simply popped it open and withdrew a maroon bow-tie.

"Seriously?" Clara groaned. "You put a _bow-tie_ in a _beautiful box_!"

"What's wrong with my bow-tie?" the Doctor asked, putting on a pout-y face as he put on his bow-tie.

Sighing, Clara drew out a pair of soft skinny jeans her size and a hip-length red top. She ushered the Doctor away and then stripped out of her tunic, replacing it with the new clothes before taking out some nice blue converse and slipping them on instead of sandals.

"Just two minutes?" Clara smirked.

"Just two minutes," the Doctor grinned back as she mounted up to the control panel where he was running around, pressing buttons and pulling levers. "And you know what I say, -"

"Germonimo," Clara inserted before he could say it. The Doctor's bright face fell as he muttered about how she had to say it before pulling down a final lever, causing the TARDIS to groan and whir, fading from view outside.

"Anyway," the Doctor sighed, "let's go meet the Head head Gelth, ey?"

Clara nodded just before the TARDIS fell into a frenzy, twisting and flipping.

"Here we go!" the Doctor yelled.

And there they went.

* * *

"Miss Ginger?"

She lifted her head from the cushion to see a slave standing in the doorway. Had she fallen asleep? Pushing herself into a sitting position, she gawked at her nakedness. All she was wearing were her underwear and bra.

_Thank God the slave's a girl!_ Ginger thanked as she grabbed the blanket and pulled it around herself.

"Sorry miss," the slave ducked her hair and hurried in, racing over to the wardrobe. Ginger couldn't help but stare at the small selection of female clothes hanging midst the male possessions. The slave drew out a set of tight, female champagne breeches and a tight light blue polo-shirt that would exaggerate her curves. "The master asked me to wake you and give you these. He took you through when you were crying and a maid undressed you. You've been asleep for a few hours."

"How many?" Ginger demanded, her heart in her throat. How long had she been snoozing in the master's quarters. How many times had he entered and _peaked_?

_No! The master wouldn't do that! Stop being so rude! You are his slave, his to do with as he pleases, so even if he did...No! He _didn't_!_ she scolded herself, mentally slapping her head. Ow! That would _hurt_!

"About twelve?" the slave offered hesitantly. "It was eight o'clock in the evening when you went in and cried. He took you through and when it was nine and you still weren't awake he went to bed. It's half past eight now."

"So I was asleep for twelve and a _half_ hours?" Ginger said slowly, cautiously.

"Yes miss. Now you are to dress in these. The master believed you needed a bit of cheering up," the slave told her, holding out the clothes.

But they looked so...soft and smart and...expensive! Even though she was a private servant she wore the same clothes as the others and in the camp she had lived with a tunic and sandals. When had she risen in life to a station in which she was allowed to wear these _riches_? Sighing, Ginger pulled on the breeches and top before sighing in content. The uniform was soft and just when she thought it couldn't get any better the slave handed her a set of thin woolen socks and knee-high boots with clacking heels. Swiftly, she pulled them on and after tying her hair up she followed the slave out to the stable yard.

Standing in the middle of the yard were the two horses. Captain Jack was mounted on the largest, a sixteen point two hand high black stallion with an arched neck and muscles rippling over his body. The saddle was small and the stirrups allowed Jack's legs to reach down to the belly whilst keeping his knees bent and resting on the knee roll. With a smile, the lord nodded to his private servant and accepted a whip from one of the grooms. His muscles, although puny compared to those of the slaves, pressed confidently against his white shirt, champagne breeches and black tailcoat as he sat upon the steed, holding the reins certainly, keeping the stallion's head tucked in.

Beside the stallion and Jack stood a buckskin mare with a short thick black mane, a long forelock reaching down to her muzzle and her tail trickling down low, hovering a few centimeters from the floor. The golden yellow coat was added to by black that reached up the legs to the knee and darkened the muzzle. She lifted her head to snort at Ginger and then lowered her head once more, tugging at the groom who gripped her reins.

"Come on, mount up," called the groom encouragingly.

Nervously, Ginger did.

* * *

Liz sat on her bed, staring at the ground. The stars glittered outside and the moon was full, taunting. The sound of the wake-up call came to her ears.

"Cheer up, partner," Mandy offered. "I'm sure it was an accident."

"Yeah," Liz muttered, "an accident."

Rising to her feet, Liz turned and strode from the room, leaving her nine roommates to prepare sleepily. As she stepped out into the cool air of dawn, she felt a strange numbness run through her heart, sharp and cruel. Where was the Doctor? Why had he lied?

The rest happened in a blur. Everyone crowded outside; the truck drove a lap around the cells and then came to a stop at the usual place; the usual Lead Gelth hopped out of the truck and shouted for their attention, gesturing at the young boy standing on the flat roof of the same cell that the Gelths had shoved the girl off last time, and announced who he needed.

"Elizabeth Robinson!" he yelled. Silently, Liz strode forward, allowing herself to be shoved into the truck and belted in; be told the Head Gelth of Unit 28's rules and be reminded to obey.

The Doctor had been gone a whole month.

* * *

**The only reason this chapter came out not long after the first is because I had already started this one before I published the story. The others may take an hour, a day or maybe even a few days - at the most a week or two - but I hope you stay loyal. Thank you amichalap for being the first person to favorite this story! I hope all you readers out there enjoy my fanfiction! Mental chocolate chips and strawberry shortcake to you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I hope you like this chapter as much as you did the others. I see that this chapter may seem a little desperate but in truth I didn't really want Liz to be sitting around doing nothing the whole time. Please comment!**

* * *

3\. The Headquarters

The hot desert sand catapulted through the open window, not at all harming the soldiers who had masks over their faces but causing Elizabeth to choke and cough. The sun beat down on the army green truck: a cat chasing its prey. Seventeen year old Liz found herself longing for the stuffy yet cool air of the mines and the sound of the rope ladder creaking under her feet. She longed for the plain and bumpy red walls and the open windows showing countless rooms filled with pulleys and conveyor belts. Now that was all gone and she had heat all around, rolling hills of delicate red sand visible in every direction. Slumping back into her seat, Liz closed her eyes and prayed quietly, begging for someone to help her. And yet, no one came like the Tardis had once before, instead the sound of wheels converting from hard dirt track to large crunching gravel stones filled her ears, beating her eardrums mercilessly.

The acrid air of the desert remained but it gradually lessened and Liz soon found out why as her eyes pried open and she gawked at impossibly green grass. If she hadn't seen pictures, she wouldn't have known what the millions of short green strands growing from the dirt were. Far off, she could just about see the grass falling away abruptly to sand once more but that was far away and instead, much closer, Liz found herself staring at a huge white building with grey-black slates and rosebushes surrounding it. A few strands of ivy clung to the narrower side walls but this only succeeded in increasing the look of sereneness and beauty. Up ahead, a meter or so in front of the house was a turnabout and in the center, on a circular patch of grass, was a magnificent waterfall.

"Say hello to Captain Jack's estate," one of the soldiers cackled as he pushed open the door and stepped out, dragging Liz along with him.

"Hello?" Liz replied questioningly, unable to take her eyes from the building. The second soldier had already clambered out of the car and the driver was swiftly turning the truck round using the turnabout as he began speeding off towards another road which led across the grass and wound round the back.

"Ah, is this the new gal?" a wizened woman grunted as the door swung inwards to welcome them. "She's a bit scrawny, ain't she?"

"Shut your trap, Jessie, we're not taking naught from you," the soldier who had hold of Liz in his iron grip snarled at the woman. The lady's eyes widened in surprise and then she stepped aside, mumbling angrily as they stepped through the door.

"Nicely done Johnny," the second soldier congratulated as they took Liz along winding halls.

The sound of the door shutting made Liz's stomach drop into her shoes and twist into a gruesome knot that almost had her throwing up. Swallowing harshly, she turned her attention to the finely decorated walls with art hanging down and old-fashioned lamps nailed to it. She barely even noticed that Johnny - the first soldier - had knocked on a door until a proud and slightly kind voice called from inside for them to enter.

The door swung inwards and Liz was shoved into a large drawing room, a man with thick brown hair sitting at a desk with his fingers hanging suspended over an ancient typewriter. As the door was shut once more, the man looked up and Liz found herself shaking under blue-grey eyes that almost seemed to see right through her. A cheeky smirk pulled at his lips as he pushed back his chair and stood, knotting his hands behind his back.

"How may I help you gentlemen?" the man asked, turning his attention to the two soldiers.

"This is the new one, sir," the second soldier declared proudly.

"Came easily, this one did, didn't she Barney?" Johnny chuckled, looking over at his friend.

"Might as well have been on a collar!" Barney snorted as they laughed throatily.

Sir? The words wiped the window clean and Liz realized at that moment that this...fairly handsome man before her was in fact the famous Captain Jack. Biting her lip, she dropped her eyes to her feet, nervousness causing her to twitch with every sound made. All of a sudden, the soldiers' laughter echoed around the room and Liz's breathing became heavier but sharper. She gulped so hard that it rubbed her throat sandpaper dry and her eyes began to water in pain at the heat that was searing up in the room. What was happening? The familiar clanging was drifting into her ears, the feeling of tools digging into her back making a small smile touch her lips. However, this time somehow the tools pushed her forward and she stumbled, falling onto the friendly hard stone ground.

"Get up!"

Her head snapped up, her eyes grew wide. She wasn't back at the mine, she was still right there with Captain Jack and the soldiers standing over her as she lay on the ground. Her lazy smile faded into a look of sadness as she was yanked to her feet and forced out of the door.

* * *

"Steady on Tardis!" the Doctor soothed as he flicked switches, his heart aching for the machine as she fell into a depressed state. "Almost there, old girl; hold on!"

"I _can't_ hold on!" Clara screamed as she was swung into a railing with a sickening smack. "_OW_!"

"Not you, you old sausage!" the Doctor laughed. All of a sudden, the Tardis began to groan and they were thrown to the floor as she landed. The feeling of cold metal smacking the Doctor's cheek sent painful spasms throughout his body. "Ouch!"

"Nobody move!" a muffled voice from outside yelled. "We're breaking the door down."

Clara struggled to her feet and crawled over to the Doctor. "They won't be able to knock the door down, right Doctor?"

The Doctor snorted as if she had said the world was about to end. "Of course not, the Tardis will keep them o-"

The doors shattered under impact sending large splinters of wood spiraling through the air. With a sick, wet thud a diamond of rough wood embedded itself in Clara's leg causing her to yell out in pain, the sound of blood dripping to the floor resounding off the walls. About twenty men in black leather clothing and with yellow berets positioned on their heads stormed into the Tardis, circling the two people.

"Get up!" one man with a dark blue beret stepped forward, a pair of stony brown eyes that might once have been gentle and caring glowering at them.

"My friend is hurt," the Doctor pointed out calmly. Within seconds, two men had yanked Clara to her feet and the girl was crying out in pain as she put pressure on her injured leg. "She can't walk!" the Doctor cried, disgusted.

"Get the nurses in here!" the lead man yelled, clapping his hands sharply.

It only took a minute and then three women in surgeon bonnets hurried in and approached Clara, not even giving the machinery a second glance. As they began to work, easing the piece of wood from Clara's leg and searching for any left over splints, the Doctor was caught by the arms and dragged from the Tardis. Kicking and screaming like a child, he tried as hard as he could to escape but to no avail.

White walls that were probably metal sheets painted over rose over him, glass windows showed white surgical and experimenting rooms. People in berets that were trooping along the corridors didn't even seem to notice the Doctor as he was escorted along hallway after hallway until he was dizzy. Not moments after, they came to a heavy, obviously metal door which opened creakily. With a gruff push, the Doctor found himself falling down the stairs and only just catching himself on the railing before a bend. Gasping in pain as the wind fled his lungs in a whoosh, the Doctor struggled to rise and groaned as he was dragged down the last of the staircase.

The area under the encampment above could only be described as a dungeon. Wet stone walls rose from the ground and barred cells ran along them filled with filthy, smelly people. A mouse scurried across the ground desperately and vanished through a crack in the wall. Sighing painfully, the Doctor gave up the fight and allowed himself to be led into the nearest cell where he was removed of everything but his clothes - even his useless-looking sonic screwdriver - and was chained to the back wall.

As he hung there, the Doctor listened to the sound of wheezing breaths and pondered how to get out. It was what felt like several hours before the cell door opened once more and a ragged man coated in burns and lashes was shoved in. One of his arms was missing along with an eye and half of his head had been shaved clean of hair. As he looked up, the Doctor noticed that half of his mouth was made of machinery so that he could speak.

"What happened to you?" the Doctor asked, unconscious of how rude he sounded.

"They happened to me!" the man jerked his head at the door and spat out of the flesh half of his mouth.

"Y-you mean...?" the Doctor's eyes widened in horror.

"Yeah, what do you think they do with us?" he growled. "You earn yer keep by playing guinea pig. Took me arm off them Gelth did, to see how it worked cos books ain't good enough, apparently. Shaved half me hair so they mark me," he bowed his head to show an ink mark with a six digit number on the bald half of his head, "and...well I had a faulty mouth so they fixed that. Only good thing they've done so far if you ask me."

The Doctor didn't hear the last remark, his eyes were wide with fear and he barely heard the scraping of hard pottery as it slid across the stone floor. He barely saw as the other prisoner grabbed the two small bowls without a glance at the Doctor and with his one hand he began to shovel the gruel into his mouth. The Doctor was too terrified to hear the man snorting like a pig, there was only one thought running through his mind: what would they do to him?

* * *

Clara's eyes fluttered open painfully to see a blurry white ceiling above. The sounds of machines whirring around her and her heavy breathing was all that she could hear. Turning her head slightly, ignoring the stab of agony that forked through her, she let her eyes wander. Beside her bed stood a small metal table gleaming with polish and lying on it were glinting silver tools. Hanging over her head were bags of fluids, tubes inserted into Clara's arms. Her chest was naked but they had been considerate enough to put on a pair of plain white trousers. Standing a little ways off holding a gleaming knife was a white-clad doctor with her hair tied up and her hands in clear, disposable gloves.

"W-what are you doing?" Clara stammered. The doctor turned and a hungry glint entered her eyes.

"I plan to see if a human heart can be replaced by an artificial one and still keep the human alive," the woman's mouth pulled up at the corners proudly. "It will be my finest experiment yet."

"E-experiment!" Clara gawked. "That's against the law! You can't experiment on people!"

"I think you'll find," the woman chuckled darkly, "I can."

A knocking at the door turned their attention away and Clara's neck snapped to look over at the metal rectangle. The doctor strode over to the metal and yanked on it strongly to reveal a tall but young man with floppy blonde hair. He eyed Clara with disdain that was clearly foreign on his unmarked face before he turned back to the doctor.

"The Masters wish to call a Meeting," he explained. His eyes flicked to Clara. "You may want to lock her up before we go."

The doctor cursed but strode over to Clara and shoved the girl's head back, locking a large cuff which acted as a collar over her neck. Then she pulled a second over Clara's stomach whilst leaving the ankle and wrist cuffs on, making sure they were securely nailed to the table.

"She won't get away," the doctor declared certainly. "Why don't you get one of the Humans in here to guard her anyway?"

"Your time in a human body has made you ignorant, doctor. We are not entirely sure if we trust them yet, let alone allow them to guard a prisoner," the man insisted.

"They offered themselves as soldiers to us, didn't they?" the doctor snapped. "Plus, I have a new chemical which will make them just as emotionless as us."

The soldier blew an exaggerated sigh from his mouth. Bowing his head respectfully, he left closely followed by the doctor.

With the pair gone and the halls emptying out, all Clara could hear was her own breathing. The feeling of cold metal against her skin made her tremble but she forced herself to breath and try her hardest to escape. Clenching her hands, she lifted her chin and tried to wriggle her head through the neck cuff. However, her head remained firmly in place and sighing in annoyance, she closed her eyes and spent the next twenty minutes twisting against the cuffs until she was slick with sweat and the cuffs - luckily - were slippery with the sweat also. At the moment when she was about to slide her wrists and ankles from the cuffs, though, a young man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes glided into the room as easily as if he had wings. He was wearing the same black leather as the others who had previously crowded the corridors only he had a black beret with a green diamond badge on it. He looked over at Clara sympathetically but was - sadly - closely followed by the doctor.

Clara watched painfully as the doctor led the young man over to a silvery metal table along the wall and lifted up a wide, heavy-looking syringe with green liquid sloshing around within. For a moment Clara stared, and then her eyes widened in shock and horror. This was one of the men who had been in the room opposite Liz's at the cell. His name had been...Johnathan! He was Liz's brother!

"Nate?" Clara breathed, tasting the name in her mouth. She'd heard the others say the word but had never spoken it herself. He turned his head to her, unknowingly encouraging her. "Nate, please! What about your sister?"

Nathan stared at her and his confusion slipped away into ferocity. "You've been gone for a month. Where did you go?"

"A...a month?" Clara gawked in shock. "B-but..." Clearing her throat to dismiss her emotions, she looked at Nathan unblinkingly as she spoke in a flat voice, fighting her jealousy so she could speak the words. "What about Elizabeth? What happened to her?"

All of a sudden, as if at the click of a finger, Nate's furious face tinged with red lightened to a pale peach as his eyes filled up with sorrow. He scanned her for a moment, tears swimming in his eyes, before he straightened up, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"I..." his voice broke into a sob which he gulped down as he turned to the doctor who was clearly becoming impatient. "Do it, doctor."

Nodding her head stiffly, the doctor didn't wait for further encouragement as she plunged the long needle into the young man's arm, ripping a cry of pain from him. However, the sound was instantly muffled as if a hand had covered his 'pie-hole' and silence echoed loudly across the room, the soundless repeats of Nate's cries long lost.

Slowly and mechanically, Johnathan Junior Robinson turned to face Clara, an emotionless mask of stone thrown across his face. A pair of empty green eyes stared at her, no anger or love or sympathy to be found. Clara would not have believed it possible for someone to loose all emotion without having anger but here was the proof. Most people still had a careless attitude but this man almost seemed to not exist. As he stood before her, neither stiff nor calm nor in the middle, Clara felt sick inside.

"Nate...?" she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers and then he strode over to the door, tearing it open for the doctor who cast one smug smirk in Clara's direction before leaving the room swiftly. The emotionless Nate turned to Clara and for a moment, she thought she saw a battle of conflict in those stern, sea green eyes. Then, like a puff of smoke, it was gone and he had turned to stare out of the window without reason.

"Please come soon, Doctor," Clara prayed, clenching her hands and shutting her eyes tightly. "Please, please, please..."

* * *

The slaves had their own rooms. Small as they were, Elizabeth immediately fell in love with the bedroom she received. It contained an iron-framed bed and a narrow chest of draws with two or three sets of slave dresses folded and placed inside. The floor was wooden and splintered because only the slaves housing up in the attic where the rooms were located came up and most slaves had no time for house keeping. Liz, however, had been given three hours to get ready and bathe. She wasn't so sure about getting in a tub of cold, sloshing water and since there was already a long queue of night workers, the bathroom filled to the brim with mud and dust coated slaves rubbing themselves clean in the icy waves, she would have to wait a while to soak. Relieved for the distraction, Liz set to work on cleaning her room.

She found a thick broom in one of the cleaning cupboards along with some wood polish and knelt down to work. She easily lifted the heavy bed up one end at a time to reach under it and shoved the drawers out of the way to reach beneath it. Although she had been working in a mine all her life, Liz was surprised to find that it took her the whole of the three hours to wash, brush and polish the floorboards but at the end of it although her hands were red and raw, the floor was gleaming. Leaping onto her bed, Liz hurriedly changed out of her stained tunic into one of the simple grey slave frocks in the chest. Hurriedly, she also whipped her hair up into the usual ponytail but used her coarse red hands delicately and more precisely than usual until her dark brown hair hadn't a bump or hair out of line. In the past month since the Doctor and Clara had left, she had been growing her hair and at a surprisingly fast rate it had reached just beneath her shoulder-blades. Without a mirror, Liz ran her fingers through the ends of her hair and fumbled with the split ends in disappointment.

"I wish Nate were here," she mumbled.

All of a sudden, the door swung open to reveal an approximately twenty-five year old woman who was juggling a baby in the crook of each arm and struggling with a toddler who was yanking at her dress. Sighing with annoyance, the blonde looked up and smiled uneasily at Liz.

"I'm Katy. The master is requesting you," she explained before turning and cursing the seven other children that had joined the first and were running around her ankles. Hurrying forward, Liz shooed the children away and offered to take a baby. Smiling in exhaustion, Katy handed over one of the babies and Liz held the baby in her arms as easily as if she had been holding one her whole life.

"Are these your children?" Liz asked calmly, throwing a sympathetic look at the four, five, six and seven year old children that were buzzing around the two young adults like swarms of bees.

"Every last one of the little nippers," Katy laughed tiredly. "Took five years off me life, that dummy Sledger. Mam and dad sold me to him when I was twelve and just nine year ago he started..." She looked down, pain evident on her face, "going on about 'aving some kids, you know? T'was only born in nineteen-ninety, didn't know much then I guess."

"How long after the wedding did the Gelth arrive?" Liz inquired softly. Katy nodded.

"Just a few hours. Not quick enough to stop us, not quick enough to refuse the rights that newly weds weren't allowed to work," Katy sniffed. "Got set ter work 'ere, I did. With the nippers, you never know what'll happen." In their talk the children had gone quiet and Liz had tensed up ever so slightly. Katy laughed all of a sudden. "You'd better go down un get to work or the master'll have you flogged half to death!"

Gasping, Liz spilled the baby carefully into Katy's arms and sprinted down the corridor, not certain where she was going but willing to try and figure it out. As she stumbled down the ladder she pondered the law that newly weds were not to be set to work in the mines but swiftly shook the mysterious thoughts away and allowed herself to tumble down the staircase towards an old maid who was clearly waiting for her.

"Sorry!" Liz called out, loud enough for the woman to hear but not loud enough for everyone else to also. Surely she couldn't get told off on her first day?

* * *

The pain of the whip cutting into her back would have made Liz cry if it didn't resurface the memories of tools digging into her back. However, the agony also reminded her of when she was only little, before she was put up for adoption at twelve after their secret base was under threat of being found. She had been forced to spend hours practicing training; the hard hours had exhausted her but three square meals a day were always there to help her through. She had been the first successful experiment using some warrior's DNA, all the others had gone mad or been too self-absorbed and had at some point either been killed or died themselves. Liz had - unlike the others - been made from scratch. Whilst the others had been real children fed the DNA, Liz had been born. They had replicated the egg in a womb and put the DNA of a single man into it along with a woman's DNA. With this, the egg that would usually have been found in a womb created Liz as a warrior, a scientist and all sorts of other incredible things. Being the first and last successful experiment, she had been favored by all but her Creator: McGregor. Whenever she failed at something or did not appear good enough, he would beat her, flog her, curse her. He would spit at her, kick her or put her in an arena with a hungry animal such as a lion or wolf. He was never satisfied.

These memories eased a cry of hurt that seemed to made her attacker happy as the snaps stopped and footsteps retreated. Red dotted Liz's vision but she refused to let the black veil of unconsciousness fall as she placed her shaking hands under her body and pushed herself up, taking her torn dress and trying to ease it on over the bloodied cuts without harming herself further. Footsteps returned but Liz didn't allow the person the satisfaction of turning around or cowering. Instead, she stood up defiantly and lifted her chin.

"What was that for?" she demanded, refusing to admit that she knew why she'd been beaten.

"Slacking on your duties," Captain Jack's greasy voice answered. A hint of sympathy entered his voice. He hadn't been the flogger, it had been the disgusting driver, but Liz still refused to turn around. "I am sorry if you are in pain, perhaps the nurses will have some cream to treat the wounds or some pills to ease the p-"

Liz spun round to face Jack, her once neat hair disheveled and her eyes bloodshot. "I don't need your sympathy!" she spat. "Why don't you go give it someone else?"

Jack stared at her, his eyes captivated in hers. He was clearly surprised and horrified. "Y-your eyes...?" he breathed, scanning her blue-green orbs nervously.

"What about them?" Liz snarled, eyes flashing.

"They look exactly like...his eyes..." Jack's eyes had stayed large and looked as if they'd pop out but he didn't move to close them. "And your hair..."

Curiosity sparked in her eyes but the moment it did, it was replaced with the snarling ferocity of a lioness. Spinning round, she strode from the room. Her heart seemed to be a hand that had thrust itself down her throat, trying to suffocate her as she jogged up the steps, tears budding in her eyes. Who had she looked like? Did Captain Jack know who her father - or rather Maker - was? Thoughts raced through her mind like racing cars flashing across the finishing line.

Standing at the top of the ladder leading to the slave quarters was Katy, only holding the hand of her single seven year old son who had shoulder-length dark brown-black hair and innocent brown eyes. Katy smiled widely at Liz's approach like a sister might when her younger sibling returned from her first day of school. However, when Katy spied the tears swimming in Liz's eyes she released her son's hand and slid an arm around the younger girl's shoulder.

"Calm down gal, you've been through the first un, the next uns will be easier, you'll see," Katy offered, squeezing Liz against her.

"He...he said I looked like someone he knew," Liz sobbed, looking up at Katy. "Do you think he knows who my father was?"

Katy gawked in surprise and then frowned. "I'd think you'd know who yer father was, chickpea."

Shaking her head, Liz rubbed her itchy nose. "I was brought up in a lab."

Instantly the sibling love fell into pure and complete sympathy. "Oh you pour, pour little chicken." She wrapped both arms tightly around Liz and kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

Tears ran like rivers down Liz's cheeks as she wondered sulkily if Captain Jack truly had known who her father was. But if Liz didn't know who her father was, who could?


End file.
